


Hanging by a Thread

by Jb (sg1jb)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Off-World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg1jb/pseuds/Jb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident on a mission leaves two lives, and more, hanging by a thread..</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hanging by a Thread

**Author's Note:**

> Set very early in the show's run - they are all still learning about one another and what it means to be a team.  
> Previously posted online, July 1999

 

 

Daniel winced. Jack certainly was noisy. The Colonel was yelling a the top of his lungs: a mixture of not-very-nicely-put exclamations of discomfort, words of encouragement to Sam, and blistering invective aimed directly at Daniel… to _hurry-the-fuck-up_.

Daniel quickly slid the metal shunt along the length of the rope and passed the free end of the line from right to left around his waist, pulling it in front of him from his left to feed the end through the shunt. He slammed the lock on the shunt home to prevent the rope from slipping back out. He left a good eighteen inches between his body and the shunt, which now held the two portions of the rope together in front of him.

Wrapping the line to the inside of the circle loosely around his right forearm and then his wrist before firmly grasping it with his gloved hand, he reached out past the shunt and did the same with his left hand. Daniel turned sideways to brace his left knee and thigh against the uneven waist-high rock formation in front of him, settled his weight back onto his right leg, and nodded at Teal’c.

As Teal’c threw the coils of rope over the edge of the precipice, a good twelve feet in front of him, Daniel thought once again that this idea might not work out exactly as they hoped. There was simply nowhere to tie off the rope and if Teal’c fell, Daniel wasn’t too sure he would be able to support him. But he knew they really had no choice. Jack was… otherwise occupied, and, well, it sure sounded like he was hurt. And Daniel and Teal’c both knew that there was no frigging way that Daniel would be able to climb down there to do the deed. It was far too… _high_.

Daniel watched as Teal’c efficiently adjusted the simple harness to fit tightly around his own waist and hips, and looped the rope through the carabiner. Daniel didn’t know much about climbing gear, but he knew that the pitiful amount of equipment in the standard issue SGC packs – the lightweight but strong 7.8 mm nylon-coated rope, one vastly simplified waist harness, a few carabiners, and the metal locking friction clamp – was woefully inadequate for this type of rescue.

Teal’c disappeared over the edge, leaning into the rope, and immediately Daniel felt the strong pull. He prayed that Teal’c would not falter.

"Thank God! _At last_ … Carter, just hang on, just another minute. Teal’c is on his way." Jack was laying flat out on his stomach, the upper half of his torso hanging over the edge with Carter suspended below him grasping for dear life onto the end of the nylon web belt.

"Yessir. I see him." Her response was forced, fear and discomfort all too evident. She renewed her two-handed grip on her end of the belt.

Feeling his hold on the belt slip slightly, with an effort Jack squeezed his hands tighter around it. His incredibly painful hands. As Carter swung at it’s other end, the belt twisted and fire lanced through his right wrist. If it wasn’t broken, then it sure was a hell of a sprain. His lower back wasn’t feeling so great, either. An unsuccessful attempt to twist his body around far enough to check on Daniel behind him sent lightening bolts down through his right hip and leg.

He watched Teal’c struggle to find any sort of toehold on the steep wall. _Daniel damn well better have that rope solidly anchored._ Jack felt his temper flare again. This was all Daniel’s fault.

They had been exploring the rocky plateau upon which the Stargate sat, and when they discovered the dangerously steep cliff faces on three sides O’Neill had ordered the return to the Stargate. Typical of the young man, Daniel had not want to leave yet. His attention had been drawn to the cluster of rock formations close to the near edge. Standing anywhere from three to five feet high and all approximately two feet thick and over six feet in length, Daniel had thought they might not be natural formations, but possibly some sort of ruins.

The usual brief argument had ensued, however this time, with some cautious support from Carter, Daniel had won. He and Carter had been given ten minutes to inspect the piles of rock. The sloping ground had crumbled right beneath her and although she was a good three feet back of the edge of the cliff, she had pitched sideways and slid right down and over.

When Carter fell, Daniel was right there next to her and sure enough they had seen him run to help her, but he had been too slow and Carter had slithered right over the edge. Then when he reached the rim Daniel had stood as if frozen. It was just for a second, but the pause had been long enough for Jack and Teal’c to believe Carter utterly lost.

They had peeled over there and Jack had pulled Daniel back from the edge just as he was laying down to try to extend his hand to Carter. Seeing his Captain below, frantically trying to hold on to a small outcrop of rock, Jack’s panic gained an inadvertent companion… overwhelming anger directed at Daniel.

Jack had been uncomfortable with Daniel for over a week now, ever since the incident on P3X972 where they had found Ernest Littlefield. The castle was breaking up around them, they had only just managed to establish an unstable link back to Earth, and amazingly enough Daniel had announced his intention to stay behind. Those moments had felt chaotic to Jack; Daniel’s insistence, his plaintive plea, had rocked him and in some confusion he had very nearly allowed Daniel his wish. If Daniel himself hadn’t come to his senses just in time…

It was only later, with everyone back safe on Earth, that Jack truly understood just what such an unfortunate decision would have cost them all. The thought of how they would have had to live with the loss, how he would have had to somehow live with himself every day afterward had Daniel stayed behind, was unnerving.

Over the few months and on the missions since their return from Chulak, the members of SG1 were slowly getting to know one another, traveling on a sporadically rocky journey toward becoming a cohesive unit. Clearly theirs was an evolving connection and for Jack and Daniel the foundation for a successful co-existence, first laid back on Abydos in their fight against Ra, had seemed to be in place. Until P3X972, Jack had thought that despite their seemingly polar opposite personalities they had a good chance at finding a comfortable place, a compromise born of mutual respect, between them.

His confusion and annoyance at Daniel over what had happened on Ernest’s planet was strong, still fresh. Since then, he found himself irritated on a daily basis by little things, normally unimportant things, about Daniel. If a tube of toothpaste pushed in the middle rather than at the end could be the last straw in a rocky marriage, then what of the uncertainty Jack felt about Daniel’s reliability as a result of P3X792?  Jack was having serious second thoughts about his ability to forge any sort of consistently positive working relationship with Daniel.

The kid was a pacifistic scientist, for crying out loud. It didn’t help that Daniel was unwilling to fit tidily into his designated slot, and seemed to be having difficulty getting the hang of the concept of military chain of command. He seemed to think nothing of speaking out of turn and, more often than not, protesting both the General’s and Jack’s decisions. And this mission was another perfect example of that; this _mess_ a perfect example of the possible outcome of having someone like Daniel on SG1.

Hauling Daniel out of the way and ripping off his own belt, Jack couldn’t remember exactly what he said, but whatever it was had definitely included the words ‘moron’ and ‘useless’. Carter managed to hang on to the outcrop of rock just long enough for Jack to feed her the belt, before the rock crumbled and her full weight was forcefully thrust onto his one hand. He had pitched forward violently and almost plummeted over the edge himself.

Teal’c had tried to help with the belt to pull her up but the nylon had twisted and split with the movement, and they knew they couldn’t risk stressing the fabric any further. His blast staff was long enough, but the rough outcroppings on the wall of the cliff made the angle all wrong; they could not get the staff right over next to her and Carter was unable to safely transfer her grip on the belt to the staff. Jack knew it had only taken a few moments for Teal’c and Daniel to get the rope organized, but it had felt like forever. And now here he was, laying halfway over the edge of a huge drop with a bummed up back and his hand about to come off at the wrist. Here they all were, relying on Daniel’s physical strength and stamina to see Carter and Teal’c safely out of this mess.

If Daniel _had_ any physical strength and stamina. Jack was all too aware of the allowances which he had coerced General Hammond into making for Daniel in that department. Yeah, Danny better have secured that rope, but good. Jack couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him, so he decided he would do the next best thing.

He yelled at him some more. "Jackson, you better have that rope fastened off. You hang onto him, _ya’ hear me?_ "

A soft answer came from behind him. "Yeah Jack." Daniel’s voice sounded strained.

"Carter, you hang on, it’ll be fine. We’re going to haul you up." Jack redirected his attention to Daniel, lowering his voice. " _Right_ , Daniel?"

 _Haul her up?_  Daniel knew Jack was angry, but he didn’t know the man was utterly _mad_. Daniel already felt the strain on his shoulders and upper arms as he braced against Teal’c’s weight. Teal’c was very heavy, the pull on the line much stronger than he had expected. It felt like the Jaffa was actually hauling against him, rather than simply using the line as a safety in climbing down. The thin nylon-coated rope was already digging into his forearms and hands. Who did Jack think he was, Hercules? No, probably the best he could do was to try to hang on while Carter and Teal’c climbed back up the rope on their own.

"Jack, there just might be two of them end up on…"

"Don’t screw this up, Daniel. You hear me? Carter’s hurt down there." Anxiety, pain, and anger turned the volume up to high. "I’m telling you, Jackson… don’t you _goddamn dare_ screw this up!"

As O’Neill’s angry words carried down to them, Teal’c heard Carter give off a muffled groan.

"I will be there in a moment." Teal’c made an effort to reassure her. He had tried to support his feet on the rock face of the cliff as he descended, to climb down, but erosion and high humidity had combined to make that impossible. The rock crumbled everywhere he attempted to put any appreciable weight at all against it. He had to settle for a light pushes with the toes of his boots to rappel down.

Carter was only about seven feet down; the combined distance of her and O’Neill’s arm-lengths and the extended belt which had to this point saved her life. Teal’c had not far to go, he was almost level with her face as it was. He was uncertain of how to proceed once he got down right beside her; he had thought to find foot and handholds but there were none. It was highly unlikely that Daniel Jackson could single-handedly support their combined weight on the rope. He could only hope that O’Neill was not so injured as to preclude being able to help.

He was there now. Carter looked over at him thankfully. She had a gash on her right temple which was still bleeding slightly. Her expression was pained and he could see that she was fighting to keep her composure; the drop below was several hundred feet.

"Captain Carter. I am pleased to see you looking so well."

Sam would have laughed, had her shoulders not hurt so badly. "Teal’c, you’re getting much better. That was almost funny." She looked up to see Jack’s face, dripping with sweat and twisted with pain, and got down to business. "Teal’c, neither the Colonel or I can hang on much longer. My shoulders… it feels like my arms are going to come right out of their sockets."

Teal’c reached around her waist to support her. "Wrap your arm around my neck."

Just as Sam tentatively started to move one hand off of the belt, there was a slight ripping noise as the stitching along the width of the belt where Jack was gripping it gave way. In an instant, Sam was falling.

Teal’c let the rope slide through the carabiner in a hurried attempt to follow Sam’s initial sudden descent and maintain his grip around her waist. Over twenty-five feet passed in barely a second. Grabbing her tightly with one hand, he pulled hard on the rope behind him, drawing it tight on the carabiner. They lurched to a bone-jarring stop.

Daniel only had Jack’s cry for a warning. Abruptly, in the instant following Jack’s horrified _‘No!’_ , there was a massive wrench as the impact of the sudden halt of over 375 pounds dropping at 9.8 meters-per-second-squared ripped at the rope wrapped around Daniel Jackson.

As the sudden combined weight of both his friends joined with their wild descent and abrupt halt, Daniel was violently yanked forward. Slamming into the formation against which he had braced himself, he was very nearly pulled entirely overtop of the rock wall. His left hip impacted the top edge of the solid stone barrier with an audible thwack as the rope around his waist pulled him off his feet altogether.

The pain was incredible.

The rope squeezed on his wrists and hands in an excruciatingly tight grip, slicing through the fabric of his gloves into his palms. On the inner aspect of his bare right wrist, where the glove and jacket did not quite meet, the nylon cord buried itself so deeply into his flesh as to be barely visible. Immediately, blood began to flow. He only half-registered a corresponding sensation of penetration on his right flank where, as he had stood sideways against the stone wall, the rope rested firmly against his side just above his belt line. Just below the raised edge of his jacket.

Due to the strength and shock of the impact and accompanying pain, a moment passed during which Daniel couldn’t think coherently. He was vaguely aware of a loud voice, but any actual words were hidden under the pounding rush in his head. The feeling of being dragged further onto the top of the formation snapped him out of it, and he fought to reverse his forward momentum. Daniel threw his weight back as quickly as he could, bending his knees and pushing forward against the stone wall with his legs. His forward slide ceased, and with great difficulty he managed to slither back until he had his feet on the ground.

As Daniel twisted to once again stand sideways against the rock wall, the rope bit into his arms and across his palms and he felt a dull sawing sensation in his right side. The pressure was immense, the weight on the rope simply too great and he struggled to lean back against it; to avoid once again being pulled forward.

He knew he should sit down on the ground to brace his feet against the wall for a greater mechanical advantage, but he was right up against the wall and the rope was pulled so taut; there simply wasn’t enough line to enable him to get down there. He cursed himself. _Stupid, he had been so stupid_. If he had had the common sense to have done that in the first place, he would be fine now.

Daniel could now make out the yelling. It was Jack, sharing words of wisdom on how to handle the situation and being very up-front about his concern over Daniel’s abilities.

When the belt had given way Jack honestly thought he would suffocate, so great was the sudden pressure in his chest. He wasn’t even aware of having hollered. Then as the rope not one foot from his face abruptly _moved forward_ , he thought he’d have a full-fledged honest-to-god heart attack. But that passed quickly and now he knew exactly what he was doing, and that was… hollering. His very _best_ hollering, in fact.

"Daniel! Lean into it, man… hold on to it! Goddamn… _pull on it_ Daniel!" He said a few other things as well, very choice words about Daniel’s level of commitment, until he noticed that the rope had stopped moving, although it had not yet reversed itself. Now, Teal’c and Carter swung together about thirty-five feet below, not moving either up or down, clinging to one another.

Jack tried to get up, but his lower back flared and bile rose to the back of his throat. Trying to twist around to look behind him was also out of the question. He called out to Daniel, and while there was no reply he noted that the rope was still stationary, so he knew the kid had to be back there somewhere. He called out again, in no uncertain terms encouraging Daniel to pull back, to haul the others _up outa there_.

There was still no reply and the rope remained stationary. The part of him that did not fully trust Daniel advised him that maybe he needed to be satisfied that he had not seen Daniel and the rope go sailing past him as yet.

Teal’c heard O’Neill’s ‘encouragements’ aimed at Daniel, and knew that the Colonel was fooling himself. However, that they had not yet fallen to their deaths was heartening. Daniel Jackson must be somewhat stronger than Teal’c had given him credit for, however still he knew that there was no way Daniel could assist them any further. Even he, himself, with the strength of a Jaffa, would find it an exceedingly difficult task. He renewed his earlier search for foot and hand holds, knowing all the while that it was fruitless.

Sam Carter peered up at Jack, his face still visible over the edge above. She turned to look at Teal’c. "Daniel’s holding us on his own? There wasn’t anything to tie off to?" At Teal’c’s serious nod, she understood their situation. "Okay. We need to get going then. I think… I’ll try to climb up first. You can follow up behind."

Teal’c nodded. That was very sensible. It was clear that Captain Carter’s shoulders were causing her some distress. He would remain close behind, and would seek to support her as much as possible in her efforts. Slowly, he raised her so she could grasp the rope above him, and they began their slow and difficult climb.

Gritting his teeth against the new jarring movements of the rope, Daniel tried to focus his whole being on simply keeping his shoulders back, on maintaining his center of balance as far back as possible. It wasn’t easy, and Jack O’Neill’s fairly persistent expressions of obvious lack of confidence in him were not making it any more do-able.

The line was very slick now. Wet with blood from the deep laceration on his wrist, it continually threatened to slip out of his grasp. With each jerk of the rope, it dug further into his flesh. His left knee and thigh were pressed solidly up against the rock wall in front of him, and Daniel knew that as long as he leant back and didn’t give up the fight, he wasn’t going anywhere. He knew that if he could just manage to stay on the proper side of the stone barrier, he could still hold them even if he lost his hand grip on the rope… there was still the line around his waist.

Leaning back into it, he felt the rope biting ever deeper into his side. Daniel resolved that there was only one possible outcome to this situation: his friends safely topside, even if it meant he would be vivisected in the process.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Although the nearby rope twitched repeatedly with the movements of the two climbers below, overall it remained steadfastly taut, not sliding either forward or backward. O’Neill could hear evidence of the effort being devoted to this from behind him; there was a constant slight scrabbling noise and Daniel’s breaths came out as loud short grunts, easily audible to O’Neill more than ten feet away.

Even though the rope seemed steady, worry for his teammates and a basic mistrust of Daniel’s physical strength fueled a decision: the kid was obviously having trouble hanging on, and Jack would need to do something about that. O’Neill twisted slightly and brought his right knee up underneath him. Despite the stabbing pain as his strained back muscles protested the movement, he levered himself up enough to reach the lifeline beside him which stretched to and over the cliff edge. As he lightly touched the taut rope, O’Neill felt the twanging shock of each jerk of the line run through his fingers and into his hand.

Wow. It felt electric; much, much stronger than it seemed just by watching the movement of the rope, and he realized that it must be making Daniel’s job of hanging on all that much more difficult. Thrusting himself up onto his knees, determined to try to help by damping the movement, Jack grabbed the line with two shaky hands and placed some slight downward pressure on it.

"Let go, Jack. Don’t try to help." Daniel had to force the words out through his clenched jaw.

He had only just managed to get past the disruption of the sharp jerks on the line – each one of which sent fire through his whole body – had only just settled into a rhythm of sorts, leaning back against the spasms of the rope at just the right times, and now Jack was screwing him up. Jack was inadvertently increasing the weight Daniel had to cope with and diverting the direction of the line, forcing Daniel to alter the angle of his grip.

The rope slid down where it was wound around his arms and hands, painfully gouging out new troughs through his flesh. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit back the cry which threatened to escape him.

Jack held onto the rope and tried to pull back on it to ease the weight for Daniel. He was surprised to hear Daniel tell him to stop, not to try to help. The voice behind him was barely intelligible, distorted by effort. Jack could feel the incredible tension in the rope, feel every movement of the line as an abrupt shock and hear the pain in the voice behind him; only now did he finally understand just what it was he had expected of Daniel.

"You need help, Danny. Just hang on, I’ll try to take off some of the pressure." Jack put everything he had into pulling back on the rope. It was incredibly taut and even with his best effort the line didn’t budge, not one inch. Determined to help despite the hurt in his own damaged body, panic for Teal’c and Sam settling in his chest like a stone weight, Jack tightened his grip and threw his weight backwards.

"No. Leave it." The words were strangled, guttural. And too late.

Daniel felt his precarious rhythm go all to hell, and his rear foot slid forward. He had to scramble to maintain his sideways position and as he did so he lost his balance and fell to his knees, striking his chest and chin on the wall. He felt a snap in both shoulders and an increase in the bite into his wrist as his arms were forcibly pulled forward and upward by the weight on the line.

This time – as in compensation for his new position the rope slid brutally up from his waist to rest higher on his side and his back, taking with it his T-shirt and agonizingly avulsing skin and muscle – he could not hold back the cry of pain.

Jack gasped as the line abruptly jumped in his hands and then jerked forward a few inches. "Daniel! Hang on… don’t mess up now." Even as his words left his mouth Jack heard the distressed outcry from behind, and immediately regretted uttering them.

"O’Neill!" Jack’s attention was diverted by Teal’c’s voice, sounding very close to the edge of the drop. "Captain Carter requires assistance." Then the top of Carter’s head was visible, along with her hand on the line.

Letting go of the rope, Jack let himself back down onto his stomach and crept forward to grasp her hand. Ignoring the lancing pain in his back, he pulled with all his might and with Teal’c pushing one-handedly from behind, he managed to drag her over to safety. She crawled away from the edge and collapsed in a heap, exhausted and visibly shaken. Now there was just Teal’c.

The absence of Carter’s weight on the line was just enough of an assist, provided just enough relaxation in the line, to enable Daniel to finally plop down onto his right hip and sit sideways on the ground. His bent left leg pressed tightly against the wall, he fought the upward pressure of the sharply angled line as Teal’c pulled against it to haul himself up over the edge, and studiously tried to ignore the feel of the rope as it inexorably slid further up his side, wreaking havoc as it went.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jack shut his eyes against the throbbing in his sprained wrist and lower back, and tried to banish the images which sprung to mind. There had been such a lot of blood. He’d had no idea.

If he really listened, he could just make out the sighing of slow regular breaths coming from the alcove next to him. The soft sounds of a deep peaceful sleep. With the curtain drawn he couldn’t see over there, but he hoped that the expression on Daniel’s face was as serene as his drug-induced sleep. After pulling Sam up, he hadn’t been able to turn himself to get a look at the boy until after it was all over, and the face he had finally seen was not the one which he had expected.

He expected pain and fatigue, and relief, and probably concern for the well-being of the team… and he would not have been surprised to have seen a little bit of residual fear, either. But he hadn’t anticipated the raw hurt, almost grief, that had dominated the expression on Daniel’s face.

He remembered thinking, at the time, _‘Just what the hell is that about?_ ’. Once again, for the millionth time and exactly as he had on Ernest’s planet, O’Neill had felt confused and anxious. Daniel did that to him, all the time.

The nurse was there, at Daniel’s bedside. Jack could see her form in the dim light, outlined by the curtain as she stood against it. He stuck out a hand, pushing lightly against her hip. "Hey…" He made sure to keep it down to a whisper. She turned and pulled back the edge of the curtain to peer around it at him. "How is he doing?"

She gave him a stern look. "He’s fast asleep, Colonel. Just as you should be. It’s 4:30 in the morning." Then she relented. "He’s fine, sleeping off the anesthetic. He’s not in pain or anything. Do _you_ need anything for pain?" Jack shook his head. No, he could cope. Besides, he wanted to stay awake for just a little while longer, to listen for a while longer, to hear that reassuringly peaceful breathing that reminded him that his team was safe.

They all came back safely, but he knew, maybe not entirely safe and sound. That look he had seen on Danny’s face haunted him. He wasn’t sure he understood it or even if he had read it right... but he knew that if he himself had been treated by someone whose opinions he cared about, in the same way he had treated Daniel these last ten days or so, it was the sort of look he might see on his own face.

Jack knew that he was important to Daniel. Jack was all too aware of the faith Daniel placed in Jack’s willingness to help him in his quest to recover the life and love that all too recently and all too tragically had been ripped away from the young man. In the weeks after they had come back from Chulak, Teal’c willingly in tow, Jack had watched from afar as the terrible understanding of Sha’uri’s true fate had literally overwhelmed Daniel. Jack had noted the endless cups of coffee, the bleary eyes, and the reliance on Sam’s receptiveness to his hesitant and awkward overtures of friendship. He watched as Daniel turned to Sam and the work of the SGC, gluing himself to the Captain-Doctor’s side and immersing himself in understanding the structure of the SGC, in order to somehow cope with his loss.

He knew Daniel had trusted him to help not only in the daunting task of seeking out evidence of the whereabouts of Sha’uri, but for official help in being allowed to secure an alternate life with SG1… help in simply having somewhere _to_ _be_ , to not be left adrift, all alone, in a world which was no longer his home. Jack thought he understood just what despair that sort of isolation could engender, and he had determined not to leave Daniel at it’s mercy. And since that time, he hadn’t regretted his choice to help.

Until P3X792. After Ernest’s planet, Jack realized that maybe he didn’t entirely understand what drove this complex and enigmatic young man after all. He had been shaken that Daniel would even remotely consider staying behind at a site which was in it’s violent death throes, and even more shaken by his own lapse in judgment which had almost allowed that to happen. He had blamed Daniel for that – had taken back his respect and replaced it with criticism and intolerance – right up until nine hours ago, when he had reached out and felt the painful stabs from an impossibly taut and twitching rope.

Nine hours ago, when he had realized with a lurch that his friend’s lives were hanging by a thread, and that thread was Daniel… and that Daniel was doing a _great_ job.

He thought back to his misconceived distrust of Daniel’s abilities in the situation they had just overcome. He remembered his harsh words, telling Daniel repeatedly that he had best not mess it up. Jack understood now that he had given in to his own panic and had been less than helpful… Daniel had put his heart and soul into achieving the impossible; to make the kid take the brunt of Jack’s own fear had been unfair.

Just as it was unfair to blame Daniel for the events on P3X792. Daniel had devoted his entire being to the magic of the alien ‘united nations’; he had been as single-minded there, in his pursuit of insight and knowledge, as he was in fiercely hanging on to the thread which was Sam and Teal’c’s lifeline just hours ago. It was Jack himself, not Daniel, who had been untrue to his own character on P3X792.

Daniel was who he was and Jack now understood, with a surge pride in Daniel and of mild amusement at how silly he had been not to realize it before now, that he wouldn’t want him any other way.

Jack knew he owed Daniel a huge apology. Ten days of mistreatment and two friend’s lives worth of apology.

He sighed. Well, if need be, they’d have some time to hash through it. At least a week, Dr. Fraiser had said. A minimum of a week flat on his back in the infirmary, and then physiotherapy. Thank god it was just a severe sprain, likely to fully resolve with due care; Jack had not been looking forward to a lifetime of chronic low back pain. For Daniel, it would be longer. He’d be in here for a bit longer than that, on intravenous antibiotics and with frequent sterile dressing changes and wet saline compresses to his avulsed and lacerated back and side. Then there was that wrist…

The image came back again. A vividly clear memory of seeing the rope deeply embedded into Daniel’s bloody wrist, the laceration ragged and soiled with dirt. Of Daniel cradling his hand and struggling not to cry out while Teal’c cut away the line at either side of the injury, leaving the rope implanted for later removal by Dr. Fraiser. The blood had continued to flow, right through the pressure dressing Carter had applied, all the way back to the SGC.

Shit. He’d never get to sleep now, with that vision dancing in front of his face. Painkillers were starting to sound like a great idea.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Waking up was a slow and tenuous process. Full awareness ebbed and flowed, teased at him, comprehension of his surroundings receding into a hazy blur of colors and sounds only to flood back with momentary crystal clarity before once again escaping his grip. When sensibility finally did take firm hold, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he felt quite… well, _almost_ quite… all right.

He remembered now. He had woken before and Janet Fraiser had been there and they had talked for a bit until his back had literally screamed at him, raw flesh and damaged nerve endings insistently demanding attention. The nurse had applied some wet compresses and had given him an injection for pain. It was pretty good stuff. He was still feeling it’s effects… his back was burning slightly, but that’s about all.

His wrist and hand, elevated on several pillows and effectively immobilized in a huge swath of gauze, simply felt dull, almost but not quite numb. That realization brought with it a quick flash of panic, but then he recalled that Dr. Fraiser had told him to expect just that. It was the swelling, it would be okay, she had said. Some deep ligament damage, but that had been repaired and he could expect to keep full use of his hand.

Daniel softly snorted to himself. And if not? Wouldn’t it be just and due payment for his own foolishness? What had he been thinking? Or, more to the point, _not_ thinking. He’d had no right to have taken on that task. He should have just sucked up his fear of the height of the cliff and gone down the bloody rope. She was only a few feet down, for god’s sake. Teal’c could have held them both, easily. As it was, though, he had not only chickened out but he had positioned himself badly – he should have been down on the ground right from the start, feet and legs well braced – but he had been too _stupid_ and as a result he had almost lost them both.

Not to mention hurting Jack. Daniel remembered how Jack had painfully repositioned himself to help, even though it was patently clear that he was in no shape to be doing any such thing. And what had Daniel done in return? He had blamed Jack for the loss of his own grip on the rope. Utter foolishness. That grip, his grasp on the entire situation, was feeble at best to begin with.

The urgency of Jack’s desire to help – that the reason that Jack had wanted to help in the first place was because he did not have any faith in Daniel’s ability to handle it – was not lost on Daniel. And whose fault was that? Well, _duh_.

Daniel felt his face blush and burn with the thought of the almost unbearable strain between he and Jack during the past ten days. His developing friendship with Jack and probably his continued place on SG1, if not his very presence in the SGC, was hanging by a thread.

Why? Because. Because he was an idiot. He had thanked Ernest Littlefield for the words which had eventually gotten through the thick blanket of obsession which he had wrapped around himself on P3X792, but he hadn’t taken advantage of the opportunity which existed at that time to thank Jack for caring enough to come for him, to wait for him, caring enough to try to force him home. He had been too embarrassed, ashamed really.

One day later, it was already too late. By then, both of them had understood the true implications of his plea to stay behind and Jack was no longer receptive. And with good reason. Daniel knew he had proven himself to be unreliable, not a team player but an unpredictable force on an ever-changing quest for… for, what?   For self-gratification?

Over the last ten days, Daniel had promised himself repeatedly that he wouldn’t screw up like that ever again, that come hell or high water he’d prove that he was not a risk to himself or any other member of SG1. But now here he was, laying in the infirmary with Jack suffering just a few feet away; hard proof of yet another failure.

He had some major sucking-up to do.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"What the hell is this?"

Daniel reached over and tried to pull the curtain between the two beds aside. The action pulled on the deep abrasions on his side and he hissed. A hand joined his and between the two of them they managed to muscle to light fabric back out of the way.

"You okay, Daniel?"

"Yeah. No problem. What the hell is, what?"

"This…" Jack indicated the pale yellowish glob on the tray in front of him. "What is this stuff supposed to be?"

"Oh. Yeah. I got some too. I, uhh, I think it’s scrambled eggs."

Jack poked at the watery mass suspiciously. "Well no way _I’m_ taking the first bite."

Daniel was feeling a bit nauseated and hadn’t intended on eating anything, but he stuck his fingers into the slimy mush of eggs and lifted up a sizable chunk.

"Yeah.  Go, boy." Jack grinned at him as Daniel shoved the egg into his mouth. "I knew I could count on you."

Daniel almost gagged on the egg, and not because of his queasy stomach. Raging guilt beat nausea any day for sheer torture. Even though he knew Jack was just joking around about the miserable infirmary food, he found that he couldn’t bring himself to look over at him.

"Daniel…" The voice was suddenly very soft and low, there was absolutely no humor whatsoever there. Daniel’s heart flopped over in his chest. _Here it comes_.

"Danny, I … "   

"Jack... please… "

The two voices, both strained and repentant, overlapped one another. They turned to look at each other with identically worried and hesitant expressions.

Daniel stared in open-mouthed relief as Jack grinned and waved a hand at him, obviously just as surprised and embarrassed as Daniel was to find his own guilt and regret written all over the other man’s face.

"Hey, Daniel… let’s not sweat it right now, eh? We’ve got about a week in here."

They both looked down at their meal trays at the same time. "A week. Uhm, so a where's cliff to fall off when you need one?" Daniel cringed the moment the words left his mouth, chagrined at having been so stupid as to offer such an off-colour joke.

When Jack just laughed out loud in response, though, freely and with appreciation, Daniel knew they were going to be okay. 

 

 

 


End file.
